Page 5 of The Plus One Pact

We go to the next call. Then the next. For three hours, we record calls. Tomorrow, we'll come back to edit the episodes, to shape the calls into the seventy-minute podcast we put out once a week.

Right now, Meredith and I celebrate another job well done with a post-show drink.

At least, that's what we're supposed to do.

But we can't today.

Because, today, we have a problem.

The email sitting there in our inbox. All matter of fact, from our number-one-advertiser.

Hey Sex and the OC,

We still love the show and love the vibes, but we need to reach a broader audience. We want to go on the journey with you, but we need to hit our targets or we need to go with a different podcast.

Sincerely,

Good Vibes Only

All good vibes from our top advertiser as they threaten to abandon ship.

There are other podcasts, with cheaper ads. Therapists who run this thing as a hobby. For us, this is a full-time gig.

The math is… tough. We’re still a million streams a month short. And we’re not increasing our numbers. Quite the contrary. Since we started repeating stories, we've been losing subscribers.

That's the other thing. We're running out of material.

Meredith took a vow of celibacy. Great for her personal and spiritual growth. Terrible for our business.

We're out of dirty stories. And I've completely failed every attempt to create my own.

We need some hot sex, now, or we're both out of work.

Chapter Two

Ivy

Orange County isn't exactly known for its nightlife. We've got a few dives in cities that used to be cool, like Huntington Beach. The rest is all strip malls and hotel lounges.

Since neither one of us wants to shell out fifteen-dollars for a so-so cocktail, we drink at the office, like proper grownups. Or at least like Mad Men characters.

No, the characters on Mad Men would never fix gin and tonics, with fresh lime (I insist), but I do.

Meredith throws herself onto the couch theatrically. She lives with gusto. I'll give her that much. Or maybe it's the mix of sexual frustration and how the fuck are we going to double our listenership?

She doesn't refer to the email.

I don't ask.

We sip in silence, trying to find something else to talk about.

And it really is silent. These rooms are soundproof.

"Long week, huh?" She runs her fingers through her sleek black hair. "But we're set now. We've got everything planned for my trip."

Almost everything, yes. We've done the calls. We've recorded the TikToks and Reels and written the blog posts. She's even taken pictures for Instagram.

But it's all listener based.